The Rule Number 7 Job
by Trapper Creek Kaniac
Summary: A woman asks for the team's help in rescuing her sister from a Russian proposition ring. Now complete!
1. Aidezmoi, s'il vous plaît

**Title: **The Rule Number 7 Job  
**Category:** Leverage  
**Author:** Trapper Creek Kaniac  
**Genre:** Humor/Drama  
**Disclaimer:** The usual stuff: All recognizable characters and places are not mine and are property of the brilliant writers and creators of Leverage - otherwise a certain long-haired, blue-eyed retrieval specialist would be mine - only the plot and original characters are the product of my imagination. No profit is being made other than keeping my writing skills well oiled.

**Author's Note:** This story was mostly inspired by the a line from the incredibly talented Mr. Christian Kane's song _The House Rules_: "Well rule number seven says 'don't touch the women,' but they can grab whatever they want to," and somewhat by another Kane song, _Blaze_. This looked a whole lot longer when I wrote it in Microsoft Word, but has a way of taking you down a peg or two, I've found. What was almost three pages in Word is now barely one and a half. *sigh*

**Pairings:** Implied Nate/Sophie, Parker/Hardison, and a possible moment that could be read as Eliot/Parker if that's your thing, or just Eliot being his usual incorrigible self.

* * *

Outside John McRory's Place the sun was shining down and people were hurrying about their business. Inside the bare was a different story. The atmosphere created by the dim lighting and alcohol was much calmer and more relaxed.

Nate Ford sat at a table towards the back with a cup of coffee mixed with a little Irish whiskey in his hand - far enough out of the way to blend in, but not so far back that any unwanted attention would be attracted. Next to him sat Hardison. Hardison, never far from a computer, was busily typing away on the laptop in front of him. Parker had wanted to come, but after the last time she had accompanied Nate on a client interview, Nate had decided to take Eliot's advice and have Parker sit this one out.

A few minutes passed before a young woman of about twenty-five entered the bar. She was of average height with olive complexion and delicate facial features, shoulder-length light brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, and blue eyes. Clarisse Beaumont: the client. She hesitantly scanned the room before her eyes fell on Nate and she made her way over to him and Hardison. If Eliot had been there he would have showed his Southern upbringing by standing and pulling out a chair for the woman before reseating himself, but Nate remained firmly seated, giving Hardison a nudge under the table to attract his attention.

Clarrise seated herself at the table with her purse in her lap.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet me, Monsieur Ford." She spoke with a light French accent.

Nate smiled somewhat amiably. "It's what we do. This is Hardison," Nate gestured at the young hacker beside him.

Introductions were made around the table and they got down to the business at hand.

"Miss Beaumont, your story?" Nate prompted not unkindly.

"Oh, yes," Clarisse paused to compose herself for a moment. "I'm originally from France; I immigrated here four years ago for a better life after my parents were killed in a car wreck a little over four and a half years ago. My sister, Genevieve, she was thirteen, almost fourteen at the time. I couldn't find a good enough job that would support the two of us for ever long, and I didn't want to leave Genevieve at home alone while I was out working. I tracked down a distant aunt who was willing to let Genevieve stay with her. The plan was that Genevieve would stay at aunt Aly's while I came to America and then once I secured a job and a place for us to stay, I would send for her and she would become an American."

Clarisse paused her story and Nate took the opportunity to flag down one of waitresses and ask for a refill of his coffee and Irish whiskey concoction.

"As you may have guessed," Clarisse continued, "it didn't work out so well. I didn't have any problems coming into the country, everything went well. I found a job with pretty decent money and after about a year and a half, I had enough money saved up to rent an apartment that would be plenty of room for my sister and I to live somewhat comfortably. I took my test and became a legal American citizen. Now that I was settled and had a stable job and a good place to stay, I went about making arrangements to send for my sister.

That was a month and a half before the French school year ended, and we were going to wait for her to finish out the year. The day that Genevieve was supposed to leave came and she called me early that morning, though due to the time difference, it was getting towards nine in the evening on my end. She was so excited that she was finally going to be reunited with her big sister, and we agreed that right before she got on the plane, she'd call me.

She rode the metro - the subway - because Aunt Aly had to work and couldn't drive her there herself. When my sister arrived at the immigration office, before she entered the building, two well-dressed men approached her and asked her if she was going to America. She said yes, she was. The men said that they could help her, that if she would just come with them, they would provide a passage to America and a job would be waiting for her; she needn't worry about the cost of the fare, a portion of her wages would be saved and go towards paying off her dept to them - did that sound like a great opportunity? My sister declined their offer, saying that she already had her papers and a ticket into the country. But the men didn't listen. They said if she didn't come with them, and quietly, that they would find someone she loved and make them hurt.

They kidnapped her, Monsieur Ford!" Clarisse's lips trembled as tears threatened to spill out of her eyes and Hardison put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"It's okay, please continue."

Clarisse Beaumont sniffed her nose before continuing. "I had an idea of approximately what time Genevieve would call me but when the minutes kept ticking by and no word from her, I knew something was wrong.

Those men, they took her to the wharf and loaded her into a cargo ship and kept her hidden on the way over. They didn't lay a filthy hand on her, but gave her plenty of food and water and kept her comfortable. Once in the Boston Harbor, they smuggled her out and took her to their boss, Ian Bruno - her new boss, too. Her job waiting for her in America? Stripping! She was to become a prostitute and there was nothing she could do about it.

It was either submit or run the risk of something happening to her family. She was able to discreetly contact me under the watchful eyes of her boss and "protectors" and plea for help, but nobody would help us.

You are our last hope. Please, Monsieur Ford, my sister, she is only seventeen and doesn't deserve this."

Fighting back tears, Clarisse dug around in her purse and pulled out a worn photo. It was a picture of the two sisters hugging each other and grinning happily at the camera.

"May I?" Nate indicated the photo.

"Oh, yes, of course."

He picked it up and studied it briefly before turning to Hardison. "Hardison?"

The hacker pulled out his cell phone and snapped a picture of the photo.

The wheels were already turning in Nate's mind and the beginnings of a plan was forming. "This may be kind of a tough one, but we'll see what we can do–"

"Thank you!" Clarisse jumped up and hugged a caught-off-guard Nate.


	2. Let's Steal Us A Strip Club

**Author's Note**: _Thanks those who read and reviewed, I love you guys! I got a lot of alerts for this so I'm taking that as a good sign. Updating as often as I can, but not as much as I would like, with homework and everything. Unbeta'd, so read at your own risk. _

_If you haven't seen The Morning After Job episode yet, there's a tiny spoiler, but nothing major.  
_

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**Chapter 2**

The next morning found the team gathered at Nate's apartment, waiting for the briefing on what would be their next job. Parker and Sophie were already seated on the couch in front of the TV monitors; Sophie gracefully perched on one of the cushions and Parker in her usual position on the opposite arm rest. Grabbing a beer from the refrigerator, Eliot easily vaulted over the back of the couch and came to rest on the cushion between Sophie and Parker. Sophie glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, no doubt disapproving of his "heathenish" ways, but said nothing.

"Okay, run it, Hardison." Nate nodded at the hacker to begin his presentation.

"Ian Bruno," Hardison began and clicked his remote so that a picture of an average-looking man in his mid-thirties, dressed in khakis and a blue t-shirt appeared on the screen. His light brown hair was short and his eyes were the same color; he was not particularly handsome, but not completely unattractive. "Age thirty-five, immigrated in to the states from Russian in '98 under the name Ian Brushnikov, which he had changed - I'm guessing illegally." Hardison brought up Bruno's driver's license. "Now this man is clean, hell, he could win the model citizen award - not so much as a speeding or parking ticket, or anything. Nada…"

"Almost too clean," Eliot interrupted.

"Ahem, I believe I was just getting to that." Hardison glared at Eliot. Eliot just took a sip of his beer while staring Hardison down.

"Hardison…" Nate prompted impatiently.

Hardison clicked the remote again so several documents appeared on the screen. "As I was saying, Ian Bruno is squeaky clean. But, Mr. Brushnikov, he's been a bad boy - several slaps on the wrist for inappropriately touching women. After he came to America, he decided to cater to the red-blooded American male…"

"He started a catering business?" This time it was Parker who interrupted Hardison. "But I thought Nate said that he ran some kind of strip club or something."

"He does; it's a figure of speech, Parker." Nate answered. Damn, he wanted a drink but Sophie would kill him so he was just going to have to tough it out.

"While I appreciate all of y'alls insightful comments on the matter, but if y'all don't have anything else useful to add, I'd like to finish my presentation." Hardison huffed. The rest of the team just looked at him and said nothing.

"As I was saying, Bruno got into the business of pleasure. and made quite a bit of money. To an innocent customer, it's just a regular strip joint. I did some serious digging and it is anything but. I checked financials - his "girls" live on less than minimum wage. From what Clarisse told us, a quarter of that money goes to Bruno. When he finds his victims, he offers to pay for the cost of the passage to America in exchange for them agreeing to work him. That way they can work of the debt as the money comes in instead of being dumped off in a foreign country with no awaiting job."

"What's the catch?"

"The money that has to be repaid?" Hardison continued. "It costs Bruno and his guys practically nothing to bring these girls to the States, but they don't know that, so he can get way with tripling and even quadrupling the amount of money "owed" and the poor girls don't even know what has happened. At the rate that the money is going towards paying off the debt, it takes close to eight years to fully pay it off."

Sophie gasped. "Oh, that is terrible! These poor girls!"

Nate frowned; something wasn't quite adding up. "What's to stop them from just walking away from it all?"

"Bruno has several pretty persuasive thugs on his payroll. Also, remember how Clarisse said her sister was provided with papers?" Hardison brought up a copy on the screen. "They're fake. Bruno can't have it look like he has illegal immigrants working for him so he provides them with fake papers that should pass inspection, should they ever get checked over. But, because the documents are fake, if anyone decides they're tired of playing Bruno's game, he'll "let it slip" that the papers are fake."

"The son of a bitch is blackmailing them!" Sophie burst out.

"Yeah, pretty much."

"So, what are we going to do?" The perky blonde thief piped up.

"We are going to get Clarisse's sister out of that place, bring down Bruno and clean out his bank accounts."

"Right…How are we going to do that?"

"I'm working on it." Nate answered.

"What about the Vegas Wakeup Call?" Hardison suggested.

Eliot raised an eyebrow. "The dead hooker in bed with the mark and the boyfriend shows up?"

"It's called the Vegas Wakeup Call!"

"Whatever, man." Eliot smirked at Hardison

A plan, a brilliant plan was beginning to take shape in Sophie's mind. "No, we're going to do something a little different…the Mexican Sombrero."Hardison looked skeptical. "Is that even real?"

"Oh, you bet it's real." Sophie exchanged a glance with Nate and he grinned back at her. "Parker, you and I are going on a shopping - and no stealing this time!" Hardison still looked dubious about the con that apparently nobody had heard of except for Nate and Sophie while Eliot sat by with an amused look playing about his handsome features.

Nate looked at Hardison. "Oh, and Hardison, make sure your video camera and green wall are ready, we'll be needing them when Parker and Sophie get back from their shopping trip." A shadow of a smile crossed Nate's face as he spoke his next words. "Alright guys, let's go steal us a strip club!"

* * *

**Author's Note:** _What do you think so far? Reviews make a very happy author! In case you were wondering, there isn't a con called the Mexican Sombrero, that is just the product of my imagination.  
_


	3. Groundwork

**Author's Note:** _Trying to get the chapters up at a decent rate but life keeps getting in the way... *sigh* Thanks for bearing with me!  
_

_And, a huge thank you to **theflockroxmysox** for beta'ing this and smoothing out my rough draft, you're awesome, girl!_

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_

"Why do I have to do this, again?" Parker asked Sophie. They were upstairs in the back room of Nate's apartment. It had since been turned into a dressing room, where Sophie was currently helping the thief get dressed for her part of the con.

"Because we need you, Parker. Nate could play my part of the con, but I think Bruno would respond better to me - it would seem a little strange if you and I reversed our roles and we certainly don't want to seem suspicious."

Parker heaved a sigh and fidgeted with her top. "Yeah, I know, it's just that you're so much better at this kind of stuff than me… remember the Rashomon job? I never could have pulled off being two different people."

"Oh, Parker, you'll do fine. You did amazing with that attorney general, and remember when you worked with Monica Hunter? Just remember what I showed you and you'll be great - it's not like you'll be doing it in front of a whole bunch of people, Hardison will take care of all that; it'll just be us." Sophie gave Parker a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "There, all done."

Looking at her reflection in the mirror that had been set up in the corner, Parker hardly recognized herself. Gone were the nondescript clothes that Parker usually dressed in; the woman who stared back at her looked like someone completely different. Sophie had styled Parker's hair so that it had a slightly messy, yet sexy look to it, the smoky eye shadow complimenting and bringing out the color of her eyes. Parker's attire consisted of a silver-accented black bustier that accentuated her bust, a mini miniskirt made of short silver tassels interspersed with longer tassels that reached just past mid thigh, and finally, six inch strappy silver stilettos.

Meanwhile, downstairs, Hardison and Eliot had finished setting up for Parker' part of the con. Since the team had set up shop in Nate's apartment some renovations had been made; more space here, a new wall there to make it a little more con-friendly. For example, the room was set up specifically for faking photos (PhotoShop can only do so much, according to Hardison) and videos - no more throwing an old green blanket over the TV panels to deliver the weather report. So far the team hadn't really needed it for any jobs, but that was about to change. Nate had mysteriously - Eliot and Hardison didn't even bother asking where it came from - produced a pole, which had been set up for Parker to dance with. The green wall was in place and Hardison had rigged up the camera on its tripod, to which he was making some last minute adjustments.

The clicking of heels on the hardwood floor announced Sophie and Parker's presence. Hardison looked up, not quite knowing what to expect. "Whoa," Hardison let out an appreciative whistle. "Hot damn!"

"What?" Parker seemed to be unaware of the effect she was having on Hardison.

"You're—you're…so…so…" Hardison gulped.

Nate appeared in the doorway behind Parker. "Hardison, let's go! We don't have all day." Nate eyed Parker and her getup. "Nice outfit, Parker." Parker grinned at him.

With that, they got down to business. Parker went through the moves that she and Sophie had sort of choreographed; something that would work to her strengths and make her feel more confident in what she was doing. A particular twist with her leg hooked around the pole made Hardison grin behind the camera.

Parker did great, but there was just something missing and Hardison finally put a finger on it.

"Parker, you need to smile a little more."

"Why?"

"Because it makes it more believable," Sophie answered. "You've got all the moves but if you don't smile and flirt with the audience, it looks a bit like it's just a choreographed routine you're performing."

Parker frowned, confused. "But isn't that what we're doing?"

"Yes, but that's beside the point. You have to act like you're out on that stage giving a room full of rowdy guys a live performance. Confidence is key."

Parker almost said something about Sophie's acting skills but a look from Nate standing behind Sophie silenced the retort.

"Are we ready to try this again?"

* * *

The door of Nate's apartment opened and Eliot strode in, his arms loaded down with two bulging paper bags of fresh groceries. He had needed something to do while Hardison was working his magic, or whatever he did, on Parker's fake video and Nate's refrigerator gave him the perfect excuse. It needed some serious restocking - the four one-liter bottles of orange soda, partial six-pack of beer, half an onion, and a heel of cheese were a sorry sight.

Nate was playing a game of chess with…Sophie? Eliot chuckled to himself, he'd like to know that game turned out. Nate glanced up and acknowledged his presence. Hardison ignored him, too engrossed in his work and muttering to himself as he punched in various commands on his laptop. Eliot almost asked where Parker was but thought better of it.

Setting the groceries on the kitchen counter, Eliot began unloading the bags, setting aside the ingredients for the lunch he was planning on cooking for the team; everything else went into the refrigerator. A small smile came to Eliot's face as he bent down to put the fresh cantaloupe in the bottom drawer, remembering the pretty checker that had flirted with him - he had flirted back, of course.

"What are you doing?" Parker asked as Eliot straightened up. He'd stopped questioning Parker's ability to almost appear out of thin a long time ago, but once in a while she still caught him off guard.

Eliot flipped the hair that had fallen into his eyes out of his face. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

Parker was causally leaning against the end of the counter, still dressed in her strip club outfit. Eliot took in the bustier, the tiny tassel skirt and…damn, Parker had amazing legs; he almost didn't recognize her. Sure, she'd dressed up for several cons when Sophie couldn't play all the parts and they needed Parker to pick up the slack, but nothing like this. Sneaking up on him in those six inch heels took some doing.

"Trying to cool your face off by sticking it in the refrigerator?"

Eliot heaved a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. Luckily, Parker was spared his comment by Hardison.

"Video's done, I'm putting it up on the big screen." The rest of the team stopped and turned to watch. Eliot leaned on against the counter next to Parker; Sophie and Nate paused their game of chess, in which Sophie was using all of her grifting tricks to throw Nate.

"Uploading to website and spoofing views as we speak," Hardison commented to no one in particular when the final frame froze on the screens, a close up of Parker's smiling face.

"Good job, Hardison," Nate nodded to the hacker. "Sophie, I think it's time to pay a visit to our friend, Mr. Brushnikov."

* * *

**What do you think so far? Reviewers get a special midnight visit from Eliot...**


	4. Can Your Dog Do That?

**Author's Note:** _If you're a fan of Leverage then you are probably familiar with the amazingly multi-talented actor and singer Christian Kane [;)]. Anyway, after all his hard work, Christian's album, The House Rules is finally being released on the 7th of December. Go preorder your copy at , Amazon, or Itunes now!_

_Okay, that concludes my shameless promoting of Christian's album. But really, you should get a copy… _

_Many thanks to** theflockroxmysox** for beta'ing and her suggestions, and putting up with all my mistakes!_

* * *

"…I told you I don't want this happening again…" Ian Brushnikov was saying angrily into the cell phone pressed against his ear as he strode out of one of the club's back rooms. He trailed off when he spotted Sophie gliding towards him across the floor of his strip club, the Naked Lady. "Listen, we'll discuss this later." He hung up and shoved the cell phone into his pocket. "I'm sorry about that," Brushnikov smiled at the beautiful woman in front of him. "My business partner is… how do you say? A bit incompetent."

Sophie gave him a knowing smile. "Well, maybe I can do something about that, Mr. Bruno." Sophie said, a light South Carolina twang coloring some of her words.

Sophie looked the part of the beautiful, well off madam she was playing. Dressed in a black halter top with a ruched bodice; a tight, black mini skirt; black Jason Wu t-strap heels, and large gold hoop earrings, she was guaranteed to turn heads.

If Brushnikov was surprised that Sophie knew his name, he didn't show it. "And you are?"

_"Hardison, you got that? Find his business partner." _Sophie could hear Nate over the comms back at their headquarters instructing the hacker.

"_On it," _came Hardison's reply.

"I'm Justine Blake; I believe we are in the same business."

"Ah, a fellow entertainer," Brushnikov responded with a small smile, extending his hand. Looking around the club during the day, nothing hinted at the hot, jam-packed place it transformed into in the evenings. The interior was very dimly lit, the only light coming from a few sparsely scattered overhead lights. The strip club was completely empty, save for a mousy woman silently wiping up the bar.

Sophie pushed her sunglasses up into her hair and shook his hand. "This there somewhere more private that we can talk?" Sophie leaned closer to Brushnikov, almost seductively. "Perhaps your office?"

"Yes, of course," Brushnikov laughed easily. "Right this way." He moved to lead the way to his office when the sound of glass hitting the floor and shattering brought him to sudden stop. He stopped so suddenly that Sophie almost ran into him.

"Oh!"

Brushnikov turned and crossed the room to the bar in angry strides. "You dumb bitch!" he raged at the cowering woman.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Bruno," the woman behind the bar apologized. "I'll clean it up right away."

Sophie stood, watching the scene unfold, horrified.

"Sorry? If you break another one of my expensive glasses, you'll be sorry. You can donate your wages to replace a whole damn case! And the next time I ask you to bring me a coffee, don't give me that tasteless brown water you call coffee! Got that?"

"Yes, sir." The poor woman mumbled.

With one last disgusted look at the woman, Brushnikov turned back to Sophie. "Shall we?" He indicated the direction of his office.

"Yes, of course." Sophie agreed and followed him towards the rear of the establishment, resisting the urge to strangle this sorry excuse for a man right then and there.

"Here we are." Brushnikov said after Sophie had followed him down two dimly lit hallways. They paused briefly while Brushnikov pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the door. Sophie made a note of the lock - a very simple lock that Parker could pick in less than two seconds.

Sophie stepped into a relatively nice office. Wooden blinds, which were open at the moment, covered the windows; a dark wood desk with a keyboard and flat screen computer monitor sat at the back of the room near a potted plant of some kind (what is it about offices and potted plants, anyway?); a small bookcase sat just out of reach of the desk - Sophie guessed that there was probably a safe hidden there. "This is a nice place you have here, Mr. Bruno," Sophie complimented and circled the room under the pretense of admiring it. She ran her fingers across the desk's smooth wood while discreetly slipping a bug under its surface.

Sophie perched herself on the edge of the desk and crossed her legs, allowing her short skirt to ride up ever so slightly. This created the distraction she needed to plug a flash drive into Brushnikov's computer and copy all his files for Hardison to look through once she'd set the hook.

"Thank you. No, please sit, I insist." Brushnikov indicated to a plush navy blue couch to his left.

_Damn it! _Sophie cursed silently, for she'd almost had the drive plugged in. She pushed herself off the desk and moved to the couch while Brushnikov took the place that she had just vacated. Brushnikov crossed his arms and tilted his head slightly in an attentive manner.

"So, tell me, what would you like to talk about?"

Sophie smiled a small smile. "I've come to make you an offer that you can't refuse."

* * *

"Okay, this business partner wasn't easy to find, but this guy's name popped up." Hardison put the search results up on the screen for the rest of the team to see.

"Henry Kiefer. Forty-six, a wife and two kids. Made his fortune in the shipping industry, but has since retired."

Nate paced in front of the panel of screens, thinking.

A few keystrokes and clicks later, Hardison had more information. "Apparently this guy used to own a whole fleet of cargo ships, looks like he sold them when he retired… no, wait, he kept one. It's not an American ship, though."

"Do you have any of the ship's documents?" Eliot asked.

"Yeah, just a second." Hardison punched a few keys. "Here you go; I'm running a program to translate the name into English," Hardison gestured at the panel of screens where a photo of the ship's stern was displayed, along with an official-looking document with the ship's name on it. "but I can tell you that it's in port right now down by City Point."

"_Полночь__ Повысилась_," Eliot read with perfect a Russian accent. "It means Midnight Rose."

"How many languages do you speak, anyway?" Hardison looked a annoyed at being one-upped by Eliot.

"Fluent in twenty three, though I know close to thirty."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah," Eliot nodded. "_Ставка __ваша __собака__ не __может __сделать __этого_." He smirked at the hacker.

Hardison shot a glare in the smirking hitter's direction. He couldn't understand the - Russian? - words that Eliot used, but he could guess that the hitter wasn't complimenting him.

"Anything on how they might know each other?" Nate interrupted.

Hardison shook his head. "Nah, nothing, man."

"Maybe he used contacts or found him through a friend of a friend of a friend," Parker supplied from her perch on the couch.

"Good point, Parker." Nate said. The thief beamed.

Nate turned to Hardison. "Hardison, do you still have those extra blank blue jackets from the Maltese Falcon job?"

"Of course, man, never know when you're going to need 'em for something." Hardison answered.

"Good, you're going to need them. Eliot, Hardison, I want you guys to go down to the wharf and look around, do some recon - but don't be too obvious. It's about time for the _Midnight Rose _to have a spot dock inspection."

* * *

"Damn it, Hardison, it's too small." Eliot complained and squirmed against the too-tight navy blue windbreaker that completed their somewhat-official look. No, Eliot Spencer didn't squirm, he flexed against the tight, restricting fabric.

"Stop complainin', man, it's not my fault that the store kind of messed up order. The one I made for you for the other job has "Crime Lab" stamped on it, and in case you haven't noticed, this ain't exactly a crime scene. Nate's gonna kill us if we don't find something useful because you can't wear a coat that's slightly too small."

Eliot glared.

The hacker rolled his eyes as Eliot combed his hair back with his fingers and used the elastic hair band from his right wrist to secure it in a low ponytail.

The waterfront was a busy, noisy place, to say the least. The water lapped against its confines while seagulls circled overhead, screeching over the sound of the machinery. As Eliot and Hardison made their way through the intricate maze made up of hundreds of stacks of shipping containers, the _Midnight Rose_ finally came into view, tied up between two other vessels.

As they approached, Eliot spotted two men on the _Midnight Rose's _deck. When they were within earshot of the two men Eliot elbowed Hardison discreetly in the ribs. They commenced in arguing about how it wasn't fair that "Conner" took the week off and left Eliot to show the new guy the ropes. While he and Hardison "argued," Eliot kept an eye on the two men aboard the ship. The younger man was the typical, run-of-the-mill thug with a beefy build and a buzz cut. The taller and older of the two was coming down the gangplank.

He stood, feet apart and arms crossed, watching Hardison and Eliot approach. "Can I help you?" The man spoke with a heavy Russian accent. Eliot noticed as they drew closer that the man's left eye was a slightly darker shade of brown than its mate.

"Yeah," Eliot said, taking the lead and flashing a badge and I.D., "I'm Inspection Officer Blair and this is Sutcliffe," Eliot jerked a thumb at Hardison. "We're with the B.P.S.S and our records indicate that the Midnight Rose is due for an inspection. Wouldn't want to have an unsafe ship out there, now would we?" Eliot chuckled.

The Russian didn't look amused.

"B.P.S.S? Never heard of it." At those words Eliot's senses ratcheted up a notch, preparing for the worst. If their cover was blown…

"Bureau of Port Safety and Security." Hardison clarified.

"Listen, man," Eliot stepped closer to the Russian and made as if he was going to confide in the man. "My boss sent me out here to show this new guy the ropes and he hasn't exactly been making it easy - a bit slow on the uptake, if you know what I mean. My usual partner took the week off and left me to drag this guy around, so if you could just do me a favor and let us do our job, you can go back to whatever it was you were doing and I can call it a day."

The Russian sighed. "Alright, alright, I call my boss." He pulled out a cell phone and moved a few feet away.

"Nice goin', man, never even heard of us." Eliot growled out of the corner of his mouth at Hardison while they waited.

"Relax, man," Hardison answered, "I got this."

Eliot still felt unconvinced. "You better," he threatened. "Are we even real?"

"You and I aren't, but the Bureau is."

The Russian snapped the cell phone shut with an air of finality that made Eliot's pulse increase for a brief second in anticipation of the worst as he turned back toward Eliot and Hardison. "Mr. Kiefer says that it is okay for you to look around."

* * *

"An offer that I can't refuse?" The idea seemed amuse Brushnikov and he chuckled.

Sophie feigned a look of offense.

"Do you always find business proposals to be so amusing?"

"I'm sorry; it just struck me as funny," Brushnikov apologized. "You were saying…?" He prompted.

"You and I are both…." Sophie paused, pretending to search for the right word, "business people. I know about your operation and I want in. We provide entertainment to men who willingly hand over their hard earned nine-to-five and all we have to do is have hire some halfway decent looking girls, and the money just falls into our laps. Why should we compete when if we work together, we can be the best - and the biggest - in the business?"

Brushnikov pondered for a moment. "And what do I get for agreeing to do business with you?"

"I am willing to give you my best money-making girl as a sign of good faith. If you like her, then we'll talk business," Sophie answered.

His face betrayed nothing as he spoke. "It's a good offer, but I will have to think about it.."

"Of course," Sophie smiled and reached for her purse. "Here is my card. Thank you for your time, Mr. Bruno; I look forward to doing business with a man such as yourself." She stood up and shook his hand.

"But," Ian Brushnikov chuckled, "I haven't even said yes yet, Miss Blake."

Sophie allowed herself a small smile as Brushnikov showed her out of his office. Nobody could say no to Sophie Devereaux.

* * *

**Author's note: **_In case anyone was wondering what Eliot said when he was ribbing Hardison in Russian, he said "I bet your dog can't do that."_

_Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter... review? Only 12 more days until Leverage!  
_


	5. Hook, Line, and Sinker?

**Author's Note:** Finally got this chapter up! Being the perfectionist that I am, I wasn't happy with some parts of it and ended up doing a whole bunch of rewriting. Plus, I'm buried under a pile of homework and studying for my midterm finals that are coming up – I promise I'll update sooner once I get started on the second semester.

**theflockroxmysox** – you're awesome.

Enjoy!

* * *

**2:44pm, Nate's apartment **

Recon on the _Midnight Rose_ didn't reveal anything the team could use as leverage against Ian Brushnikov. Basically, they had nothing.

"I counted six guys, four of 'em are ex military," Eliot was filling Nate in after he and Hardison returned to the apartment. "At least five are armed and one carries a knife strapped to his ankle." He paced behind the couch.

Hardison rolled his eyes from his position on the couch behind his laptop.

Eliot, noticing the gesture crossed his arms, and turned to Hardison with a raised eyebrow. "You got somethin' you wanna say?"

"Nope."

Eliot shook his head and turned back to Nate, who had moved to stand in front the monitors.

"You know, Nate, I was thinking…" the retrieval specialist was cut off by the door of the apartment opening. Sophie breezed in, the door slamming loudly behind her.

The hitter, hacker and mastermind all watched in silence as Sophie dropped her purse on the table and exclaimed, "Bloody Russians!"

Nate and Eliot exchanged glances.

"How'd it go?" Nate asked.

"Well," Sophie paused to take off her heels, "I'm pretty sure he'll take the bait, but I couldn't get his files - he didn't give me enough time to plug the drive in."

Now barefoot, Sophie padded towards the kitchen area, where Parker had just appeared with a bowl of cereal and had been quietly listening – as quietly as someone can be while crunching cereal.

"Hmm," Nate held his chin in thought. "Right now the important thing is that Brushnikov bites - we'll have to find another way to get those files—"

Hardison's laptop on the coffee table chirped, interrupting the mastermind and he looked at the hacker expectantly.

"Okay, Bruno is checking out Sophie's cover. I activated a site traffic program that monitors and records the I.P addresses that access to the website..."

**(flashback)**

_It was time to make for Sophie to make her exit._

_"Of course," Sophie smiled and reached for her purse. "Here is my card. Thank you for your time, Mr. Bruno; I look forward to doing business with a man such as yourself." She stood up and shook his hand._

_Printed in neat handwriting in the white margin at the bottom of the business card was the web address of Parker's video, on a fake website that Hardison had created for Sophie's character.  
_  
**(end of flashback)**

"Tracing the address…" Hardison's fingers flew over the keys. "Okay, he just clicked on Parker's video; I give him ten minutes before he calls."

"I say it'll be twelve minutes, thirty seconds," Eliot challenged.

"You wanna bet on that?" Hardison brightened at the prospect of finally besting Eliot at something.

"Ooh!" Parker's hand shot up and Eliot gave her a dirty look as she spilled some cereal crumbs. "I wanna bet! Nine minutes."

"Ten bucks to whoever the closest." Hardison set the amount for the bet.

Nate just smiled and shook his head.

The minutes and seconds crawled by at a snail's pace as the team waited for the phone to ring. Parker lost when almost ten minutes had passed and still no call had come through. The thief pouted and Eliot smirked; it was down to him and Hardison now.

Twelve minutes passed.

**2:55 pm, The Naked Lady, Boston**

Ian Brushnikov's fingers tapped impatiently against the surface of the bar as he leaned against it, waiting for someone to pick up the phone. While he waited his cold brown eyes surveyed the club's empty interior.

On the forth ring, a man's voice answered. "Kiefer."

"It's me. Look, some madam from South Carolina showed up here today and she says she wants in on our business venture. Said she'd give me her best money-making girl in exchange... what do you think?"

Kiefer paused. "As long as she's not working against us, I don't really care. How much of a cut does she want?"

"I don't know yet, I though I'd let you know first before we talked business."

"No more than fifty percent. If she gets too greedy, we can easily get rid of her. Thought I'd let you know, I got a call from one of my guys, the BPSS was sniffing around the Midnight Rose today."

Brushnikov stood up a little straighter, his attention caught. "Did they find anything?"

"No, it's all taken care of. Couldn't find a damn thing if you rubbed their noses in it."

"Good."

**3:01 pm, Nate's Apartment**

Sophie's cell phone rang and she pulled it out of her purse. "Justine Blake, what can I do for you today?" She answered, her voice oozing sex appeal. There was a pause while she listened to the person on the other end and then her voice changed to a more business-like tone. "Oh, Mr. Bruno, I was hoping I'd hear from you! Did you like what you saw?"

The conversation was short and to the point. He had considered Sophie's offer, and he would like to meet the next morning at a local coffee shop to discuss business. Sophie agreed.

Sophie snapped her phone shut and turned to the team. "Hook, line, and sinker." A triumphant smile lit her face.

Having obviously won the bet, Eliot turned an expectant gaze on Parker. She reluctantly parted with two crisp five-dollar bills, pouting as she did so. He couldn't help but smirk at the hacker.

"Quit rubbing it in, man." Hardison grumbled as he handed over a ten-dollar bill.

Eliot just laughed and tucked the bills into his wallet.

"Nate," Eliot began, his face once again serious. "I was thinking – the reason we didn't find anything on the Midnight Rose is that maybe they don't hide the girls somewhere in the ship, but in containers. Did she say if her sister remembered anything about where she was held?"

Nate shook his head. "No, she didn't. That would make sense, though, a lot easier to hide any evidence," he agreed.

"Exactly," Eliot agreed. "The first place to look would be in the ship, who'd think to look in one of the containers? And, there's over a million containers on the yard, who knows how many either of them own; a needle in a haystack."

"Okay, good. Brushnikov likes women, right? We can use that." Nate surveyed his team, gathered before him. "If he's gotten into trouble for harassing women before, I doubt he's keeping his hands to himself with those girls. Parker? We're going to need you to seduce him."

"But I can't!" The thief protested, a panicked look coming into her eyes. "Remember what happened in Belgrade? What if I stab him?"

"Or break his fingers, like that last guy," Eliot supplied.

Nate glared at Eliot. "Eliot, not helping." He glanced at Sophie. Sophie reading her cue in his eyes, took over.

"Right. There will be no stabbing or finger breaking - though he certainly deserves it - I will show you how to master the art of seduction."

Parker still looked unconvinced.

"It's not as simple as "Hi, I'm Olivia - do you want have sex?" I'm going to need a volunteer…" Sophie continued. Her eyes fell on Eliot. "Eliot?"

"No! Not only no, but hell no!"

Nate stifled a grin. Sophie's gaze shifted to the couch. "Hardison?"

"Well, um, I… guess I could…"

"You'll do - come on." Sophie moved toward the spiral stars. "Parker?" She beckoned the young thief who was hanging back slightly.

* * *

When Sophie arrived at the little café the next morning, she was a little surprised to see that she had not been the first one to show up; Ian Brushnikov was already sitting at one of the outdoor tables, enjoying a cup of coffee. Normally when she was meeting a mark like this, Sophie preferred to arrive first. It gave her a little more control over the mark, and also a chance to people-watch while she was waiting.

She ordered her own cup of coffee - a cappuccino - and sat down at the table in the chair opposite of Brushnikov.

"You put this beautiful morning to shame." Apparently flattery was his style, for he was spreading it on thick. Brushnikov smiled but it didn't reach his eyes. In a short gray pencil skirt, ruffled blouse and jacket, Sophie did look beautiful.

Sophie accepted the compliment with a hint of a smile. "So, you wanted to talk business." She stated rather than asked.

"Ah, yes; I like your offer. How much of a cut did you have in mind?"

Sophie raised her cup of coffee to her lips before answering. "I was thinking somewhere along the lines of 45%/55% - at least until you see how much more I've increased your profit margin, then we should be equal partners."

Sophie knew there was no way that a greedy son-of-a-bitch like Ian Brushnikov would ever agree to almost half. It was one of the oldest tricks in the book, intentionally putting a larger number out for consideration, knowing full well that they would negotiate and it would be that much easier to get the number she really wanted.

"You're confident. I like that."

"It pays well to be."

"45 percent is too much, it's my building and I have most of expenses. 30."

"Forty."

"Thirty-five, and that's my final offer; take it or leave it."

"Done."

"That girl…Cinnamon, you said her name was? I want her to make her debut as my new girl tomorrow."

"Yes, Cinnamon. I guarantee you won't be disappointed. I'll bring her up this afternoon and we'll stay in a hotel and then I'll drop her off first thing in the morning."

"What, are you worried she won't make it in one piece?"

Sophie suddenly felt a chill that had nothing to do with the air temperature as Brushnikov laughed. "You can never be too careful with your investments," she said tightly, glad that the meeting was over.

* * *

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**Press it and let me know what you thought, if you deem the story worth your much-loved comments.**


	6. Tightening the Noose

**Author's Note:** First off I want to thank everyone who has read, reviewed, subscribed and favorited this story, it means a lot. As writers we live for comments, so thanks for feeding my addiction obsession. I also want to apologize for neglecting this story and not getting it updated. I really wanted to get this chapter up but writer's block sort of set in and I let it intimidate me until I finally pushed back and got it beat. That said, I'm the most proud of this chapter.

A huge thank to **theflockroxmysox** and **BelleRosetteMontague **for betaing and helping me catch my grammar mistakes. You deserve one of Eliot's culinary specials!

Minor note: I updated and replaced the first chapter because I realized I forgot to include a detail, but it's a minor detail that wouldn't have a major affect on the story. Enjoy!

* * *

"What kind of name is Cinnamon?" Parker asked the room. She was organizing and packing the necessary items she would need for her part of the con into a black duffel bag.

"It's a stripper name," Eliot explained, having overheard the thief from his position across the room on the couch where he, Hardison and Nate were watching an afternoon football game.

Parker looked baffled. _Why didn't they have normal names? _"Why don't they have normal names?" She asked.

Sophie looked up from the second black duffel bag she was helping Parker pack "What Eliot means is that it is stage name, not their real name."

"Oh, you mean like when you have different names when you grift for the cons?"

Sophie smiled. "Yeah, something like that."

Satisfied, Parker zipped up the bag, then frowned. "But I don't have red hair."

"We could say you wanted to try being blond," Sophie shrugged.

"But that's not as much fun."

"Or, you could wear a wig…"

"Too itchy." Parker immediately dismissed the idea.

"Okay." Why Parker had her heart set on being a redhead was a mystery to Sophie. If this was Eliot, he would have stomped off already, muttering something to the effect of "there's something wrong with you".

"Hey, Eliot, I need you to run an errand for me." Sophie called across the room.

"Right now?" The hitter practically whined, not taking his eyes off the game. "Can't it wait?"

Sophie sighed. "Seriously, men and their football!" There was no answer from the couch; either the guys hadn't heard her or they were choosing ignore the exclamation. She was willing to bet it was the latter.

Parker shrugged apologetically. She could care either way on football. She didn't hate the sport but she didn't love it, either. Eliot had tried to teach her about it when one of the many games had been on, and it had been kind of fun, at least it made more sense than the magic guys with tails and stuff on Hardison's video games.

Sophie tried again. "How long until the half time?"

"About twenty minutes." Came the reply as the leading team scored a touchdown.

When the halftime arrived, Eliot reluctantly gave up his comfortable spot in front of the monitors, muttering something about always being the one sent on wild goose chases after Sophie had explained what she wanted. Hardison grinned because he couldn't help but feel that this was Eliot's punishment for winning the bet they had going earlier. Nate chuckled as the door slammed behind the hitter.

A little over forty-five minutes later Eliot returned, a bottle of red hair dye in hand. He'd missed the half time and the team he was rooting for was down seven points. He hastily shoved the bottle in Sophie's direction, eager to get back to the football game.

"What shade did you get?"

"I don't know, something like "russet", I think," the hitter answered distractedly, his eyes on the game.

"Parker?" Sophie called, glancing around for the thief.

"Yeah?"

She popped up from a cabinet in the kitchen and bounced over to Sophie in the main room. Sophie handed the bottle of hair dye to her. "Here's your hair dye."

"Ooh, thanks!" The excited thief threw an arm around the surprised hitter's neck and gave him a quick peck on the cheek, and then skipped off to try the hair dye. Eliot gave her retreating form an odd look before shrugging and reclaiming his spot on the couch in front of the game.

Half an hour later the once-blond thief emerged from the bathroom with damp rusty chestnut locks.

"So, what do you guys think?" Parker was practically bouncing on the balls of her feet with excitement.

Neither of the guys had moved from the couch and Sophie was sitting at the table in the kitchen area, a thick novel in her hands.

"Ooh, Parker!" Sophie exclaimed, her book forgotten. "I love it! Red could almost be your natural color, it goes great with your complexion and sets off of your eyes. So many dresses…"

Hearing Sophie's excited exclaiming, Eliot, Nate, and Hardison glanced at each other before craning their necks around to look.

"It looks nice," Nate supplied, still not sure why Parker insisted on having red hair.

"Hot." Hardison added; Eliot nodded.

Parker grinned.

* * *

**6:53p.m., the following day.**

Nate and Hardison were in the van, parked around the corner from the club, waiting for Eliot. As usual, Hardison had several laptops set up and was monitoring what was happening on the screen of one while furiously typing on the other. Nate pointed at something on one of the screens and promptly had his hand slapped way, the hacker mumbling something about 'did he know what he was touching'.

He could really use a drink right now...

Needing something to do with his hands, he repositioned the comm in his ear. Sophie's honeyed tones drifted into his ear as she made meaningless small talk with Brushnikov inside the club

"Uh, Hardison, what's that smell?" Nate asked, sniffing the air that was quickly becoming stuffy inside the van.

"Hey, hey, respect the van! Nobody respects the van, no matter how many times she's bailed your ass out..."

Two quick raps on the van's back door announced Eliot's presence before it opened and hitter slipped inside.

"Did you get anything from the photos?"

"No, nothing, man..."

"But we might be able to use them later." Nate interrupted.

* * *

_Sophie was gone, meeting Brushnikov for their "business meeting," leaving the rest of the team at the apartment. As usual, Hardison was stationed behind his laptop._

"_Hey, guys? I found something else. Look, this crappy apartment complex close to the club. It's owned by a Mr. Jeffrey Lange. BUT, it's being leased by Brushnikov."_

_"That's what where he's keepin' 'em. Easy enough place to guard, only one or two ways out."_

"_Okay, so that's where he's hiding the girls, but how does he keep the owner from showing up to check on him?"_

_"I though you'd never ask. Here's were it gets interesting: I ran a background check on Lange but I couldn't find anything that went back any farther than about nine years. Before that it's like he doesn't even exist."_

_"That's because he probably doesn't. Did you find anything else?" Nate paced, thinking._

"_I _did _find an obituary for a Jeffrey Lange that died about five years after an unfortunate gas line leak blew up his house..." Hardison brought up the online obituary page._

_Nate and Eliot traded glances._

"_How you rent from a dead guy?" Parker questioned. "I mean, do you send the money to his grave? How would he spend it?"_

_Eliot exhaled loudly and pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. _

"_Can we just focus?" There was a beat of silence as Nate glared at them. "Eliot, I want you to take a look around."_

* * *

"Hey, you ready?" A smirking Eliot elbowed Hardison as he checked the roll of cash in his wallet. He had a feeling he was going to enjoy this job.

"Hell yeah."

"Have fun, you two." Nate rolled his eyes as Eliot and Hardison exited the van. They were just about to round the corner when Parker's breathless and panicky voice came over the comms.

"_Sophie, I can't do this!" _

Sophie inclined her head slightly away from Brushnikov so that her lips were hidden for a split second while she whispered to the thief to sit tight.

Parker drew in a shaky breath.

Brushnikov finished whatever he was saying and Sophie smiled at him, like she had been paying attention to him the whole time.

"We got you, Parker," Nate reassured the thief, thinking quickly. "Eliot, call Sophie."

"On it." Eliot pulled out his phone and punched in the numbers.

Inside the club Sophie's phone rang, interrupting what she was saying. She pulled it out of her pocket and glanced at the display.

"Oh, I have to take this." Sophie politely excused herself and moved away so that she could talk to Parker without Brushnikov overhearing her.

"Parker..."

"_Sophie, I can't! What if I..."_

"Parker, where are you?"

"_In the bathroom." _

"You can't stay in there all night. Look, you're going to be just fine. Remember what we practiced?"

"Yes," the thief replied in a small voice.

"Think about about it like its a super powerful set of lasers guarding a priceless artifact. Do you need me to make an excuse and come talk you through it?"

Parker exhaled shakily, trying to control her breathing in an effort to calm herself. The rest of the team waited with bated breath to see what would happen next.

_ "No, I think I can do it,"_ Parker sniffed. _"Thanks, Sophie."_

Sophie smiled. "That's why we're a team, Parker."

With Parker's panic attack diverted, the team could breathe a little easier. While Sophie pretended to end the call and hang up the phone before returning to Brushnikov's side, Hardison and Eliot were about to enter the club.

Security at the door consisted of one of Brushnikov's men: mid-twenties, buzz cut, six feet tall and built like a tank. He barely even glanced at Eliot or Hardison as they passed.

Bright multicolored lights, blaring music, and women everywhere dressed in skimpy, sexy clothing met Eliot and Hardison as they entered the club. Strip clubs were nothing new to Eliot, he often frequented them after a job was done if he didn't already have a date with several ice packs, some Advil, and his comfy couch. Hardison, on the other hand, obviously hadn't been to that many and didn't know where to look first while Eliot unhurriedly took in the view.

"Okay, we're here." Eliot said, surveying the room in a single glance.

_"Good, Parker should be making her appearance in a few minutes. Just blend for a while._" Nate replied.

"Yeah, got it." Eliot was already pulling some singles out of his wallet for the attractive strawberry blond with blue eyes in a leather bikini top with fringe that swung as she moved and tiny denim cutoffs. She thanked him with a seductive wink and swivel of the hips as she tucked the bills into her waistband.

Eliot started to say something to Hardison but trailed off when he realized the man was too busy staring to pay him any mind. Following Hardison's gaze, Eliot saw the object of his distraction: a particularly curvy woman up on stage, shimmying and shaking what her momma gave her.

"Damn it, Hardison, pay attention!" Eliot snapped and socked Hardison in the arm.

"Ow, man! You're just mad you can't have 'em all."

"Shut up!"

Suddenly both men flinched and held their right ears while muttering a few not so silent curses under their breath. Feedback. Nate had taken out his own earbud and tapped it on table, sufficiently silencing the argument.

"Come on, we go work to do." Eliot growled and pushed past Hardison.

They made their way through the crowd, Eliot shouldering past people and Hardison following closely in his wake. Some nameless guy gave Eliot a "watch-it-man-what's-your-hurry?" glare when Eliot brushed past him a little harder than necessary.

Suddenly, a woman appeared out of nowhere, almost Parker-like, in front of Eliot. In the brief glance he caught of her before she practically threw herself at him, snaking her arms around his neck and kissing him full on the lips, she was beautiful. Green eyes, long, thick, wavy raven-black hair and creamy skin. Obviously one of Brushnikov's girls, judging by her attire: midnight blue push-up bustier, a tiny blue and black ruffled skirt and fishnets.

Force of habit had Eliot kissing her back. It was sort of an unspoken rule, if an attractive woman is kissing you, you kiss her back.

The mystery woman pulled away to whisper in his ear, "hey, sexy, there's more where that came from." The same ear that he happened to have his earbud in.

"_What the hell was that…Eliot? Eliot!" _Nate's voice barked in Eliot's ear.

"I'm sorry, Sweetheart, but I can't." Eliot said, pulling away; the last thing he needed was a distraction and Nate getting on him for getting distracted on the job.

"Can't or won't?" She said, pouting a little.

"Can't." Eliot answered. "'Least not right now; maybe later," he added and gave the girl a small wink. Hardison rolled his eyes at Eliot's indiscreet flirting.

"Well, you know where to find me," she threw a sultry look at Eliot before turning on her heel.

Eliot chuckled, much to Hardison's chagrin, as he watched the retreating figure melt back into the crowd.

"Seriously?"

Eliot smirked.

"Some guys just have all the luck," Hardison whined. "Why can't girls just throw themselves at my feet once in a while? Least I'm not some hillbilly."

"Hardison, do you really want me to answer that?" Eliot growled, annoyed at the fact that he was having this conversation with Hardison.

"_Guys…"_

"I'm just sayin'. I mean, I can do Southern, too." Hardison proceeded to do a terrible imitation of Eliot's southern accent and mock the charm that usually had women swooning at hitter's feet.

Eliot cut Hardison off with an exasperated look on his face. "You done?"

"No, I'm…"

"_Guys, guys! A little focus here! We've got a job to do." _

Backstage, Parker took a deep breath to try and calm herself and emerged from her hiding place. It startled her to see one of the women walking in, watching her – everyone was supposed onstage. It was Clarisse's sister, Parker realized, recognizing her from the photo Clarisse had shown Nate and Hardison.

"Oh, hi." She smiled at Parker. "You're the new girl, right?"

Parker smiled a shaky smile back. "Yeah. I though everyone else was on stage?"

"Bathroom break." the girl winked.

"Oh." Parker wasn't sure how to respond.

The brunette studied her for a second, a concerned look crossing her face. "Are you okay?"

Parker attempted a weak smile. "Just a little nervous." That much was true, even if it was a major understatement compared to the nerves that she was currently feeling.

"I'm Genevieve, by the way."

"Cinnamon."

Before either of them could say anything more Brushnikov's voice rose above the music.

"Tonight we have a very special guest in the house; please welcome Cinnamon!"

The rest of the team collectively held their breath; right now the entire con was resting on Parker's shoulders and whatever happened next would either make it or break it.

Parker gulped and Genevieve flashed her a reassuring smile.

"I'd so rather be in a ventilation shaft right now." Parker muttered to herself as she stepped into the light on the stage.

She could do this.

She nearly lost her balance but managed to strut down the catwalk with the dangerously high platform heels like Sophie had taught her. She thought she caught a glimpse of Hardison in the crowd.

Now that Parker was onstage it was time for Eliot to make his move. Since Sophie had been unable to copy the files from Brushnikov's computer, the team needed to try a different tactic.

"Shouldn't _I _be the computer guy?" Hardison had asked when Nate explained the plan.

Nate had shook his head. "No, Eliot can do it; I need you to be moral support for Parker."

Eliot left Hardison and threaded his way through the crowd. Across the room was a door that would give him access to the hall that led to Brushnikov's office. He half expected one of the "bouncers" to be blocking the entrance but the door was left unguarded. Through the comm he could hear Sophie distracting Brushnikov long enough for him to slip through the door unnoticed.

He found the office easily and picked the lock. Once inside, Eliot drew the blinds tight and flipped on the light. He made his way over to the computer, pulling the flash drive out of his pocket and inserting it in the proper port. Tapping a couple keys started the files transferring and Eliot turned his attention to the book case. He removed all the books but surprisingly there was no safe hiding behind them. As he replaced them, he carefully shook out each book but nothing fell out.

Eliot turned back to the computer; the drive had finished transferring the files. He pulled it out and returned it to his pocket, and headed for the door. No sooner than he'd shut off the light and locked the door behind him did he hear footsteps approaching. Three sets, to be exact.

Meanwhile, Parker hooked her leg around the pole and swung in a wide ark. A few graceful moves later and she was hanging upside down. It was almost like hanging off a building, only with music. A chorus of shouts and wolf whistles exploded from the group of men gathered around her section of the stage. They were already fumbling for their wallets, eager to praise the thief for her performance.

She grinned. This was actually kind of fun; people actually handed money to her for swinging around on pole!

In the back of the building Eliot was preparing himself for the inevitable fight as the footsteps came closer. They rounded the corner and Eliot recognized the first two as the main muscle from the _Midnight Rose_, and third was also from the ship but considerably lower on the totem pole.

They spotted him.

"The ship inspector?" the tall Russian asked, squinting at Eliot, the same hard look on his face.

"Hey, how are ya?" Eliot grinned, greeting the men.

They paused and glanced at each other and Eliot used their split second hesitation to his advantage. He sprung into action as the stoney-faced man started towards him.

"_Eliot?"_Nate asked as the sounds of the scuffle came through his ear piece.

"I'm a little busy here," Eliot growled as the second man lunged. Eliot easily sidestepped his opponent and brought him crashing to the floor with a swift kick to the legs that sent the man sprawling. He heard the other man's nose break with a satisfying snap as his face connected with the floor.

Blood dripping from his broken nose and muttering something to the effect of "you son of a bitch" in Russian, the man picked himself off of the floor to face Eliot again. He hadn't fully regained his feet before a lightning fast upper cut the chin sent him flying onto his back, out cold. He never got the chance to use the small knife strapped to his ankle.

The third man looked like he was considering running but seemed to remember his boss and thought better of it. He rushed at Eliot and was flat on his back, the air knocked out of his lungs before he could land a punch.

"You know what I have to do." Eliot growled, grabbing the amateur hitter by his collar and delivering a swift blow.

"Got 'em." Eliot spoke for Nate's benefit and glanced around before melting back into the shadows.

* * *

"Here." Eliot growled, appearing at Hardison's shoulder.

Hardison managed to tear his eyes away from Parker and took the small, black drive from Eliot's hand, and reluctantly started toward the door. There was nowhere for him to hide with his laptop so he had to go back to the van to download the files. Eliot stayed to keep an eye on things in case the job turned south.

"Have fun?" Nate was smirking when Hardison climbed into Lucille.

Hardison ignored him, pulling up the other chair and plugging the drive into the second laptop.

A window popped up and announced the files were encrypted. Hardison grinned as he easily cracked the low-level encryption that was supposedly protecting the files. He bypassed the unimportant files and went straight for the most promising folder. He was not disappointed.

"Whoa." Hardison stared at the screen.

"_What'd you find?"_ came Eliot's voice through the comms.

"Detailed records," Nate answered, reading over Hardison's shoulder. "It looks like he meticulously recorded every detail: names, dates, times, locations, money; everything. Hardison, is there any mention of the apartment complex?"

Hardison scanned the screen. "Right here towards the end."

"Alright, let's tighten the noose."

Tightening the noose involved Hardison using his skills remotely access Brushnikov's office computer and lay out all the incriminating evidence, along with the damning photos Eliot had snapped during his visit to the complex, unencrypted and easy to find. While Hardison was doing his thing Nate placed a call to Detective Captain Bonanno. Now all they had to do was sit tight and wait for Brushnikov to hang himself.

They didn't have to wait long. Twenty minutes later Nate and Hardison watched as several police cruisers pulled up and parked in front of the club.

Nate clapped his hands together. "Time to wrap things up."

That was the rest of the team's cue to make themselves scarce, especially Parker. Sophie continued to chat up Brushnikov and Eliot could lose himself in the crowd, but Parker couldn't risk getting caught dressed as a stripper and mistaken for one of the victims.

Sophie watched over Brushnikov's shoulder as Bonanno and several officers pushed their way through the crowd. Out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of Eliot briefly glancing her way. She smiled at Brushnikov's words and touched his arm as Bonanno reached them.

"Excuse me. Are you Ian Bruno?"

Brushnikov turned toward Bonanno. "I am. How can I–"

"Ian Bruno, you're under arrest for the kidnapping and illegally trafficking women for sexual purposes." Bonanno grabbed his arms and started to cuff him.

"What? No!" Brushnikov protested, struggling against the cuffs. "You can't arrest me, I haven't done anything wrong!"

"Yeah? We got very good reason to believe otherwise." Bonanno turned to the deputy closest to him. "Go collect his computer."

"No!" Brushnikov exclaimed, his face beginning to turn red with anger. "You can't take my computer!"

Bonanno smirked. "Why, afraid we'll find something on it? I got a warrant right here." He waved the piece of paper in Brushnikov's face.

"You can't do this!" Brushnikov cried as they started to lead him away.

In the darkness, Eliot smiled.

Bonanno turned to Sophie. "Sorry about that, ma'am."

Sophie nodded and pretended to be surprised by the evening's unexpected turn of events. As soon as his back was turned, she made her escape. Exiting her stage, as it were.

Outside she joined Nate, Eliot, and Hardison in the shadows and together they watched as Brushnikov was loaded into one of the waiting cruisers. Parker suddenly appeared, dressed in dark sweatpants and hooded sweatshirt, startling Sophie. They had learned to stop asking how she did it... she was Parker, after all.

Brushnikov caught a glimpse of them and began making wild gestures in the backseat but no one paid him any mind.

"That was so much fun; they practically shove money at you! I should do it more often." Parker exclaimed excitedly, practically skipping as the team started towards the van.

Sophie and Nate exchanged glances, while Eliot closed his eyes in annoyance. Hardison just stared.

* * *

**Later that night**

The team was gathered in the bar to celebrate their latest victory. A round of drinks had been poured - Nate still stood behind the bar's run of dark hardwood while Eliot, Sophie, Parker, and Hardison were all seated on the stools, their heads turned toward the TV mounted on the wall.

"...earlier this evening a local strip club was raided and the owner arrested in connection with trafficking young women. We will know more later tonight..."

Nate lifted the remote and turned off the TV.

They had done it. Another mark had been successfully taken down, and they had done their job, reuniting Genevieve with her sister. The rescued girls were safe and would become wards of the state, and be given the chance to become American citizens or return to their homeland, whichever they chose.

Nate had let Clarisse know that her sister was in custody and safe, and that she could go visit her. She had hugged Nate tightly before she went, weeping her thanks in a mix of English and French. Each of the team received a similar treatment. Parker, looking uncomfortable, awkwardly patted her back.

"Well, that felt good didn't it - reuniting a family?" Sophie mused, swirling her wine.

"To helping people," Nate raised his glass of scotch, proposing a toast.

"And taking down bad guys!" Parker added.

They all grinned and clinked their glasses.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Thanks again for reading! Hope you enjoyed it - I'm a little sad to see it wrapped up but now I can focus on finishing all the other stories squirreled away on my hard drive.


End file.
